


30 Day OTP Porn Challenge Fills

by drunkenCharm



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, First Time, Forced Sex Fantasy, High School, Lace Panties, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Safewords, Threesome, Voyeurism, more tags to be added with future fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkenCharm/pseuds/drunkenCharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is a stand-alone fill and will have the relevant prompt (and any warnings) in the beginning notes. Featured OTPs will vary. [DISCONTINUED]</p><p>1. Akabayashi/Izaya/Shiki; double penetration<br/>2. Shizuo/Izaya; forced sex fantasy<br/>3. Akabayashi/Shiki; first time; highschool au<br/>4. Shizuo/Izaya; voyeurism & panties</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. double penetration

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [chasingriver's 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com/post/39525363882/30-day-otp-porn-challenge).
> 
>  **Prompt 9. Double Penetration**  
>  Akabayashi/Izaya/Shiki. Akabayashi catches Izaya and Shiki during sex. Instead of shooing him away, he is invited in on the fun.

To be fair, Akabayashi had suspected some kind of relationship between his peer and the informant. He was neither stupid nor blind, as close as he may be to the latter, and the other two were either very bad at hiding their secret or, and this was completely in the realm of possibilities, they didn’t intend to in the first place. That, he hadn’t quite figured out yet. But maybe there was no reason to it anyway. It wasn’t his business what the younger executive did in his spare time, or who, for that matter. Akabayashi was curious by nature, but even he knew when to draw a line and turn away from a situation, hands in the air, proclaiming he’d rather not be involved.

Unless, it was something as delicious as walking in on the two men rutting like animals.

There was no other word for it. No way to describe this as anything but a hard, honest fuck. Well, he hadn’t thought them to be of the gentle and caring type anyway. Not that he had ever sat in a business meeting with the other executives, gaze lost and clinging to Shiki, wondering what the younger man was like in bed.

Nope, definitely not. At all.

The good thing was, he would never have to wonder about that ever again, because he got a pretty good look of it right there. He still holds on to the doorknob, as if letting it go might cut the last strands of sanity, which were turning thinner by the second as he stares at the two men occupying the spaces.

“Hello?” he eventually announces himself, realizing that neither Shiki nor Izaya had taken notice of him barging in on their intimate activity. The informant is placed in the executive’s lap, straddling him, clinging to the older man as Shiki’s cock steadily draws in and out of his wet hole. Akabayashi has never heard the boy make such lewd sounds, practically mewling as he took the man’s dick like a champ.

What a trooper.

Finally, they stop for a moment. Izaya slowly turns around to the intruder, cheeks reddened and lips puffy. A picture Akabayashi would love to frame and hang over his bed. Up until this point, he wouldn’t have used a word like “gorgeous” for the skinny young man, but in this moment, it felt most fitting. Behind him, Shiki glares daggers at his peer, and Akabayashi’s throat contracts involuntarily as he notices the undeniable fury in the man’s eyes.

“Hello,” Izaya responds, his lips curling into a cheshire smile. Akabayashi shudders as he listens to the unusual smoky tone of the informant’s voice, overflowing with lust. No shame in sight by a thousand miles, captain.

“Yes,” the older executive croaks, feeling somewhat dumbstruck. “I should leave. Excuse me-“

“Wait.”

Akabayashi lifts his head, making to turn around and vanish out of the room as discreetly as he had butted in, but stops when the boy calls out to him.

“Why don’t you join us?”

Well then. This is an unexpected invitation, if he has ever seen one. Akabayashi goes rigid, the offer having taken him by blunt surprise. He stares at Izaya, whose smile has turned toothy as he catches the slight shock in the man’s features. Unlike Shiki, Akabayashi’s facial muscles were capable of more than just one emotion. Actually, he was very bad at hiding his emotions. That’s the reason why Shiki was the one to take care of important business deals and such. If it was necessary his poker face would be spot-on, putting his opponent into a sudden state of insecurity. At this moment, Akabayashi realizes what it must be like for outsiders. Without consciously telling himself to, his look wanders over the naked form of the informant, over his shoulder and clings to the younger executive. There was still obvious disagreement in his features, but now something new had joined in. The look of a predator who has found a possible prey. Akabayashi feels both challenged and intimidated. The mixture of expressions in the brunette’s eyes throws him off as much as it fascinates him. He hasn’t seen a stirring of emotions this honest in a while, maybe never really.

Involuntarily, a shudder runs through his frame.

“Please.” Izaya leans forward, nuzzling into the crook of Shiki’s neck in a coy manner, his eyes never wavering from Akabayashi. He watches the older man through dark lashes, a sinister glimmer tainting the crimson color of his iris. “Join us.”

Akabayashi swallows against the sudden dryness in his throat. His gaze wanders back and forth between the two men, sensing contradicting vibes coming off them. But then Shiki moves, turns his head so he can place a light kiss on top of Izaya’s head. The gesture would have seemed tender, if it wasn’t for the joyless smile pulling his lips apart.

“What do you, say Mizuki?” Shiki rumbles, watches as the intimate use of the executive’s first name resulted in a flinch. “There’s room for one more.”

Never look a gift horse in the mouth, or so they say. Akabayashi closes the door behind himself, sealing himself inside the room with the other two.

It’s a blur really. As if his mind can’t keep up with the ridiculousness of the situation. He feels the hands on him, gently pressing him into the leather couch. Too many hands. One between his thighs, rubbing small circles into the inner side of it, making him shudder. Another two on his shirt, flying to unbutton it with talented fingers. One in his hair, pulling it, borderline painful, as his head is dragged back and then there is Shiki’s mouth on his. His lips are rough, not as unpleasant as he would have expected them to be, seeing how nothing about Shiki was giving off the vibe of pleasant or soft. It was a firm press against his, challenging, ordering him into submission which Akabayashi gives faster than he would have liked.

The hands on his shirt finished their work, and now they’re running over his chest, down his belly, landing on his hips. His belt is quickly unbuckled and before Akabayashi can say anything, a mouth wraps around his half-hard cock. Much to his own embarrassment, he gasps against Shiki’s mouth, feeling the younger yakuza’s lips twist into a sadistic smile. There is something like resistance rising in his chest, a small voice telling him that this was a bad idea. But then the informant’s tongue presses into the slit of his cock and both unease and voice are gone just like that. Akabayashi’s hand lands in the dark hair of the boy, neither pushing nor pulling, just letting it rest atop and feeling the bobbing motion against his palm. With his other hand, he reaches up to twist it in the fabric of Shiki’s shirt. While Izaya is fully undressed, Shiki still wears his usual attire of dark shirt and white slacks. Their mouths busied with each other, Shiki carefully pries the hand off his shirt, guiding it lower until Akabayashi wraps his fingers around the length of his dick. It feels hot inside his palm, still sticky with lube and Izaya’s own fluids. He shudders at the indecency of the whole situation.

When Shiki eventually draws away, his lips tingle from the abuse, blood rushing to the surface. He opens his eyes to catch the younger executive taking the glasses off his nose, tossing them onto the nearby coffee table.

“I hate these things,” he comments. “You look stupid with them.”

Akabayashi chuckles, a hollow sound in his throat. “I’m glad to hear you worry about my appearances so much, Haruya.”

For a small moment, he watches annoyance dart over Shiki’s face, but it quickly changes into a mock smile, showing way too much teeth to seem anything but sinister.

“Your appearance is the last thing that bothers me about you,” he growls. When he dives back in for another kiss, its blunt and bruising, teeth grazing the skin of his lips. Akabayashi yelps when he feels a sting, then he can taste blood. His own blood.

“Bastard,” he hisses, without the proper venom behind it. In revenge, he squeezes Shiki’s dick in his hand, eliciting a surprised gasp from the brunette. He would do more teasing, but quickly learned that the informant still knelt between his legs didn’t approve of being ignored for too long. Akabayashi sucks the air in harshly when Izaya grabs his hips, pushing down on his cock until it hits the back of his throat. He stays like that for a moment, his throat contracting around the intruder, until it gets too much and his lungs demand air. Slowly, he pulls off and looks up to catch Akabayashi’s dumbstruck face. He chuckles, letting the cock slide out of his mouth, instead working it with his hand now. He runs a thumb over the tip, watching as the red head’s mouth falls open, a moan threatening to escape it. Izaya could play like this with the man forever, bathing in the honest reactions he gave him. Akabayashi was much easier to break than Shiki. The younger executive never showed much of an emotion when they fucked, except for the occasional frown or dark growl, announcing his approaching orgasm.

And yet, all he wants is to feel the red head’s cock fucking him senseless. Sometimes, you just have to make a hard decision.

Izaya slowly rises up from his knees and gracefully climbs into the executive’s lap, watching as his expression goes from surprise to dim realization. It was such a good look on him, the bruised lip, a bit of blood smeared into the corner of his mouth, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. Such a stark contrast to his usual nonchalant exterior.

“I’m going to ride your cock,” he whispers and laughs when a small keen escapes Akabayashi’s lips. “I’m going to ride it so hard until you fill me with your cum.”

Next to him, Shiki watches them closely, a knowing smile playing around his lips. He enjoyed seeing his peer like this. It was almost cute, how easily he had allowed both him and the informant in, allowing their prying hands, their touches. His usual cockiness having turned into nothingness. At a given time, Shiki would make sure to remind him of it.

With a hand reaching behind himself, Izaya grasps Akabayashi’s hot cock, lining it up with his wet hole, before he easily glides down on it. Both of them moan in unison and the yakuza’s hands fly up to grab his hips, fingers digging into the pale flesh.

“Ahh, Akabayashi-san is so needy,” Izaya coos, beginning to bounce up and down, feeling the tip of the man’s cock brush against his prostate repeatedly. He shudders, smile faltering for a second, before he reaches up to steady himself on Akabayashi’s broad shoulders.

The older man’s eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging open as he watches the boy ride him in small movements. Despite the earlier action with Shiki he felt pleasantly tight, his hole stretching around the thick cock. His head lolls to the side when there are lips against his neck, willingly baring his throat to the younger man, as Shiki begins to suck the spot right over his pulse. Akabayashi sighs, feeling a shiver run down his spine when the suckle turns to a bite, teeth grazing the delicate skin. Izaya is still bouncing in his lap, when he feels the familiar shape of bony fingers press into the boy together with his cock. The informant whimpers, not having been able to brace himself for the new stretch. At the same time, his movements become erratic, more desperate, while words begin to spill from his bitten lips. Small pleas, begging for more, begging for the younger executive to fuck him. Akabayashi’s brain lazily swims inside its own fluids, not making the impression of forming an intelligent thought any time soon, and so he watches Shiki stand, moving behind Izaya. It’s only when he feels something else press into the tight heat that already engulfs him, that Akabayashi realizes. Shiki is going to fuck Izaya, with Akabayashi’s cock still inside the young man. He has no chance to wonder how both of them are supposed to fit inside him, when Shiki thrusts his hips sharply forward, driving in and against Akabayashi. Izaya cries out, but doesn’t stop his movements. The fingers on the red head’s shoulders dug in painfully now, but Akabayashi ignores it. He stares at the two men before him. Izaya’s eyes are heavy-lidded, mouth hanging open, and he watches Akabayashi as Shiki grabs his hips, intertwining his fingers with those of the older executive and pulls him down onto their cocks.

It must be painful, his ass not having been prepared enough, but Izaya doesn’t protest. Instead, he takes what he’s given, and he’s damn enjoying it, as far as Akabayashi can tell.

He always figured the informant for a bit of a masochist.

At another especially sharp thrust, Izaya squeezes his eyes shut, tears getting caught in the curve of his lashes. Akabayashi leans forward and places small kisses on the boy’s face. On the cheek, on the nose, on the temple. He comforts him, while driving his cock in and out of that welcoming heat. Suddenly, the hand in his on Izaya’s hip is gone, and instead fingers wrench themselves into his hair, pulling Akabayashi away from the boy’s face.

 _Jealousy_ , he thinks gratified, and allows Shiki to drag his head forward and into another hard kiss. There is a tongue licking at his lips and he opens his mouth willingly, allowing the other man in. He tastes of nicotine and Izaya.

“Fuck,” the boy openly blurts. He watches the older men make out, his own slim frame tightly wedged between them. The sight alone sends a sharp shiver chasing down his spine. “I’m close…”

Shiki growls as if in annoyance, reluctantly releasing Akabayashi’s lips. The hand that was holding the redhead in a firm grasp reaches between them, wrapping around Izaya’s neglected cock.

“Then I’ll make damn sure you come with both of us fucking your whore ass,” he hisses into the informant’s ear, biting it unlovingly and eliciting a small cry from him. “Come now, Izaya. Be a good little slut and come for us.”

It didn’t need more than those words and a single flick of his wrist, and Izaya was done. He arches his back when he comes, fingers digging so harshly into Akabayashi’s shoulders the man groans in response. The boy’s mouth is opened to a cry, but no sound escapes. His movements turn erratic, still riding the cocks lodged inside of him even as his orgasm subsides and the cutting feeling of overstimulation takes over. When he squeezes down on Akabayashi’s dick, the yakuza feels his own orgasm approaching. He leans forward, burying his face into the crook of Izaya’s neck and lets it go. One hot wave after the other washed over him, electrifying him, setting his skin on fire. The freshly spilled cum adds to the lube, turning everything slippery. Inside of Izaya, Shiki rubs against him and it almost feels painful by now.

“Too much,” he hears the boy whisper hoarsely. “Too much, too much…”

With a grunt, Shiki suddenly pulls out. He leans forward, putting his weight into the two other men, and roughly jerks himself off until Akabayashi feels something hot spill against his fingers, covering Izaya’s lower back and his hand at the informant’s hip. With his senses still dulled, he rubs his fingers together, feeling Shiki’s cum drip down the tips, creating an odd sensation. He still has his face pressed into Izaya’s neck, when the boy starts to squirm between them, showing inclinations to move off of the executive’s softening cock still inside his ass. Akabayashi mumbles a faint apology and helps him to slip off of him and bonelessly flop down onto the couch next to his own exhausted frame. Izaya is huffing, skin flushed from the rough treatment. When he cracks an eye open to look at Akabayashi, a smile pulls his puffy lips apart.

“Not bad for an old man,” he mumbles and the executive can hear the fatigue slur his words. Akabayashi chuckles in response, not at all feeling angry at the snarky remark.

“Who you’re calling old, hm?” He reaches to brush a few strands of dark hair aside. Izaya hums in appreciation.

Above them, Shiki fixes himself with deliberate movements. He zips up his slacks, before reaching to rummage through the pockets, pulling a package of cigarettes and a lighter to the open.

Akabayashi offers him a concerned look. “Have I ever told you about the drastic side effects of secondhand smoking, Haruya?”

“Oh, shut up.”


	2. explaining a kink to their partner & roleplaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 10 & 24\. Explaining a kink to their partner / Roleplaying**  
> Shizuo/Izaya. Izaya has a forced sex fantasy and finally wants to involve his partner in it. established relationship. roleplaying of non-con.

„I want you to use me. Against my will.”

“What, why would you want that?” Shizuo stares at him, perplexed.

“Because-,” Izaya begins, cutting himself off when he feels annoyance spike up. He takes a deep breath and then continues. He prepared himself for Shizuo’s resistance, and yet, it frustrates him. “Because I want it.”

“But why do you want me to hurt you? Haven’t we hurt each other enough in the past? It took us all these years to figure out our relationship. Don’t you enjoy the peace of it now?”

Izaya bites back the words that could cut Shizuo right there.

This fool and his fragile heart.

“Look,” he begins, scooting closer to the blonde on the couch. They are sat in their shared apartment. Shizuo looks at him out of big eyes, the confusion apparent. “You wouldn’t really hurt me, alright? I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you did, but it would all be in consent. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure,” Shizuo mumbles. He tries to read in the raven’s face. Izaya’s eyes are flashing with excitement, something he hasn’t seen in a while. It wasn’t like their sex life was boring or anything. They both got to enjoy it in different ways, and Izaya never complained about Shizuo’s gentle way of lovemaking. But, it seems he might have just missed out on something. “How will I know when I’m going too far? When I’m actually hurting you for real?”

“A safeword! We will think of something to say when we’ve had enough. How about it? You can choose what it is, I don’t mind.”

“Hmm,” Shizuo hums. His gaze drifts off as he tries to think of something fitting, something they wouldn’t forget so easily. “How about ‘forever yours’ to begin our play, and ’forever ours’, when we finished or when you want to stop?”

Izaya goes rigid at the emotional weight of the words. Still, he nods his head in agreement. If this was fine for Shizuo, then it would be fine with him as well.

“Okay, but there a few things we should sort out, I feel,” Shizuo begins. He turns his front so he can properly look at Izaya, who seems to almost vibrate with anticipation. “Like, what is okay, and what isn’t. Just explain to me what exactly you’re imagining.”

There aren’t many things Izaya isn’t okay with. But he recognizes the concerned look in the blonde’s eyes, and, although with a rather awkward feeling at first, he begins to paint his partner a picture with words. Shizuo listens, nods from time to time, or halts Izaya’s, by now somewhat excited, speech with a question.

Eventually, they settle on a scene they could both imagine well enough, and felt in their range of comfortableness.

This was their agreement.

For the next few days, Izaya is walking on pins and needles. He waits for Shizuo to initiate their play, like they agreed to, but the moment never comes. There are enough opportunities, at least in Izaya’s eyes. But nothing happens. Their sex is as slow and as tender as usual, and even though he enjoys it there is still the excited prickling of anticipation filling his guts whenever Shizuo touches him, hoping the man would finally do something.

But no, nothing.

While Izaya is growing restless by the day, Shizuo seems calmer than ever. They don’t lose a word about their agreement. But when Izaya looks at Shizuo he can see a foreign glimmer in his eyes, something he can’t quite put his finger on.

By the end of the week, Izaya has turned unbearable. He even shouts at Namie for asking him a simple question. She shouts in return, never having been one to just take Izaya’s moods, and he huffs in annoyance, staring at her as she stomps out of the apartment, muttering about impossible work conditions and Izaya overstepping the mark. As the door slams shut behind her, silence fills the apartment.

When the young man decided to share his fantasies with his partner, he expected resistance. What he didn’t expect was to be teased like this instead.

Izaya decides he is done for the day. He grabs the keys to Shizuo’s and his apartment and leaves, ignoring the papers still sprawled out on his desk. Tonight, he wouldn’t have the mind for it. On his way home he thinks about Shizuo’s reaction to his proposal of bringing in his secret fantasy. Maybe the blonde just isn’t the man for this kind of play. Despite everything, Shizuo is a gentle and kind person, something Izaya fascinates as much as it irritates him, sometimes.

When he eventually stands in front of the apartment’s door, Izaya takes a moment to collect himself. He doesn’t want the other one to see how on edge he really is, feeling like he’s giving some kind of victory to Shizuo. Slowly, he exhales the breath he’s been holding, and pushes open the door. He is met with dark and silent spaces, as he steps in.

Strange, Shizuo should be home by now.

But maybe he is still out with Tom after work. Izaya weighs the thought of calling him, if only to disrupt him at whatever he is doing right now, possibly something enjoyable. He is still imagining the picture of a very disgruntled Shizuo, the mental image bringing a smile to his lips, when, out of the dark around him, a pair of hands grabs him. Strong arms wrap around his middle, successfully trapping his own limbs, keeping him from lashing out. Izaya is about to curse at his assailant, when a familiar voice rasps near his ear.

“Forever yours,” Shizuo whispers, and the heavy weight of his voice sends a stark shiver down the raven’s spine.

“Forever ours,” Izaya breathes in quick response. His voice shakes with sudden excitement, and all of the day’s tension leaves his body at once. His stomach does a small summersault in joy.

It’s time.

Finally.

A large hand roughly shoves through his hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking his head back. Izaya gasps at the sudden pain, struggling to free his arms out of the iron grasp the blonde has on him. And he does get his limbs free, but only after a harsh shove from behind has him tumbling to the floor. Izaya hurries to get back on his feet, ignoring the ache that shoots through his wrists with which he tried to lessen his fall. But he doesn’t get very far. In the next breath, Shizuo is on him, grabbing the back of his coat and yanking it off his flailing arms. Izaya curses, squirming underneath the heavy weight on his legs, trying to roll around so he can fend off his attacker. He stills, when the blade of his switch knife springs open only inches from his face. Already, he is a bit out of breath, chest heaving against the cold floor underneath.

“What do we have here?” Shizuo drawls, dangling the knife in his fingers. “Is this supposed to protect you? Guess it doesn’t do that much after all, huh…”

Izaya hisses, arm shooting out to grab at the weapon, but the blonde yanks it back, carelessly tossing the knife out of Izaya’s reach. It slides over the floor and under the couch.

The weight on his legs prevents him from crawling forward to retrieve it. But Izaya be damned if he doesn’t try anyway. He is still spitting curses and maledictions at his attacker, when Shizuo grabs his arms and bends them back easily, until Izaya cries out in pain.

For a second, Shizuo stills, and the other can feel the insecurity in his pause. A sharp panic floods him, that the blonde might stop now and interrupt what Izaya has been dreading so badly all this time. He starts to wiggle in the man’s grip, signaling that the pain isn’t bothering him, that he can still move. Izaya almost sighs in relief when Shizuo grabs his arms harder, holding them with one hand now. The man’s strength never ceases to amaze him. It still sends excited shudders up and down his back when he thinks how Shizuo could easily break any bone in his body, if he wanted to. He knows how his partner is holding back, how this is just an ounce of what he is actually capable of. But it’s enough to tinge their play with a certain reality. Izaya fights against the bruising grip around his arms, tries to get his knees under his body to push himself up. But Shizuo is a steady weight on top of him, and then he is wrapping something around his arms, pulling it tight until Izaya isn’t able to move them even an inch anymore. He can feel the cold of a belt buckle brush against his fingers.

“Ever heard of how karma’s a bitch?” The sudden rasp against his ear startles him, and Izaya holds still out of pure reflex. He listens intently to the cruel words falling from the man’s lips. “Well, I’m about to make you mine, Izaya. I’m gonna make you pay for all those times you fucked with me, tried to make my life a living hell. I’m gonna make you fucking regret everything you ever did!”

Izaya snarls, turns his neck to bite at Shizuo’s face. But the blonde is quick enough to pull away. In a swift motion that sends Izaya’s vision spinning, he is flung onto his back. He doesn’t have any time to collect himself, before the back of a hand connects with his cheek, tossing his head to the side. Izaya gasps as a sharp pain starts to blossom on his face, his skin already turning hot from the abuse. The bound arms in his back force his spine to curve unnaturally, making his ribs and belly stick out. It has him feeling incredibly vulnerable. While Izaya is still waiting for his vision to stop spinning, he can feel rough hands drag over his form. They crawl under his shirt, pushing it up until his stomach and chest are exposed to the cool air in the apartment. He catches a greedy glimmer in the blonde’s eyes, and before he can voice a protest Shizuo leans down, teeth closing around his left nipple. Izaya cries out, the touch being far from pleasant as canines bury into his flesh.

“Fucker!” the young man hisses, bucking his hips to throw his assailant off.

Shizuo leans back with a rough chuckle, taking in the sight of his work. Already, the skin around the bite is tinging an angry red, the dents of his teeth clearly visible.

“Enjoying yourself yet, Izaya?”

He shudders at the sinister tone of the man’s voice. Defiantly, Izaya glares at him.

“Screw you, asshole!”

Shizuo growls, and the unspoken aggression behind it has Izaya freezing for a second.

“Fine, if you want to be fucked so badly.”

All air is pressed from his lungs when Izaya is flipped back onto his stomach. His bruised cheek presses into the ground, having the pain from the blow spike up again, as unloving hands start to tear at his pants, pulling the fabric from his hips without bothering to open the belt first. Blunt nails scrape along his skin, leaving biting scratches in stark contrast to his pale complexion. Izaya’s heart drops, while at the same time, he could sing with joy. The staged reality of the situation fills his gut with a thrilling mixture of both anxiety and delight. This is really happening, Shizuo is actually doing it. And how he does it! Izaya cranes his neck, tries to catch a glimpse of the other man, as he kicks his legs in a feeble attempt to throw his attacker off. In the end, it only eases Shizuo’s efforts of pulling the fabric off his legs. He quickly crawls back up the smaller male’s body, pressing against Izaya’s form with all his weight, holding him down.

“Tell me you want my cock, Izaya,” he growls, his breath hot against the raven’s temple. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your whore ass.”

“Go choke on a dick, sucker,” the other snarls. His words are met with a sudden hand in his hair, shoving his head into the ground so hard his skull rings. Stars explode in front of his vision, and for a moment Izaya forgets how to breathe. Before he can fully gather himself, his head is yanked back up again. Despite Shizuo’s first concerns, he really doesn’t bother to hold back right now. It fills his insides with heavy satisfaction.

“Say it!” Shizuo howls, his fingers scraping against Izaya’s scalp.

“N-no,” the other mutters, teeth gritted against the pain starting to spread in his temple.

For a moment, they are both silent, the space in between them only filled with their heavy breathing. The anticipation lays heavily on Izaya’s tongue, and, involuntarily, a whimper releases from his throat.

It’s then that Shizuo snaps.

“Fine,” he scoffs, the hand not occupied in Izaya’s hair crawling down, between them. The raven freezes when he hears a zipper being pulled down. “I don’t need your consent, anyway. You get what you deserve, remember that, when I fuck you ‘til you bleed and beg me to stop. Fucking remember that!”

Next, there is the familiar click of a small bottle being opened, and Izaya yelps when slick fingers roughly push into him. Shizuo stretches him, quick and messy, and the other knows it’s not going to be enough when the blonde pulls his fingers out of him.

The realization of a dawning pain jumps through his veins, making him almost buck up involuntarily. But Izaya doesn’t want to break character, not now, not when his partner is finally, _finally_ about to fulfill his wish.

 “W-wait,” Izaya gasps, trying to wiggle away from the weight on top of him. “Shizuo, stop. No, you wouldn’t dare! Don’t do this to me! Please, Shizuo, sto-“

His scurried words end in a pained scream, as the blonde roughly pushes into him, easily breaching the resistance he’s met with. Immediately, tears well in his eyes. Izaya can feel himself stretch around the large cock, an almost unbearable pain shooting up his lower back as Shizuo forces himself deeper into the smaller body. Despite the pain, he still tries to squirm free, his feet slipping over the wooden floor, not being able to lift the man on top of him even an inch. Izaya whimpers, feeling his whole body being pushed forward with the next uncaring thrust. He blinks against the blur in his vision, hot tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks. He is filled with shame, anger, and a gratification that grows deep inside of him. The mixture throws his head in a spin, making him feel pleasantly dizzy.

The hand in his hair fists the strands tightly, dragging his head back until Izaya can feel Shizuo’s hot breath on his cheek.

“You like that, Izaya? Huh? You like my cock fucking you raw and open? This is what you wanted, right?”

He whimpers, the harsh words fueling the sweet shame spreading inside of him, and by now the tears are falling freely from his eyes. Shizuo watches him for a moment, takes in the sight of Izaya gritting his teeth to keep any more submissive sounds from spilling.

The fingers in the raven’s hair tighten.

Shizuo grunts, hips grinding against the young man’s bottom, and Izaya can feel his cock force deeper inside of him, until the blonde is pressed flush against him.

He sniffs, trying to blink away the tears that get caught in his lashes. The other picks up on that.

“Fucking take it, bitch,” Shizuo hisses. “Take what you’re given and be fucking grateful!”

Izaya howls, a new wave of energy rousing up and having him buck up against the taller form on top of him. It does embarrassingly little, and when Shizuo moves back, Izaya has the feeling it’s only to humor him. Without his cock slipping out of the abused hole, Shizuo pulls both of them to their knees, keeping the other’s face still pressed into the ground. The hand in Izaya’s hair moves to his neck, long fingers spanning around the delicate throat, and squeezing it. Izaya thrashes when he feels his airway being the tiniest bit restricted, but a warning press of blunt fingernails into his skin is enough to teach him better. Above him, Shizuo grunts, seemingly satisfied with his work.

“That’s a good boy,” he coos in a mocking voice.

“Fuck you!” Izaya bawls, words muffled against the wooden floor, but clear enough for Shizuo to catch onto them. The bold move is met by a punishing thrust, the pain blossoming in his rear enough to stagger Izaya’s breathing for a moment. He hisses, he curses, he cries out against the ground beneath, spit pooling underneath his lips, but Shizuo stays relentless. By now his bottom feels raw, every rough thrust sending a new spike of pain through his body. Izaya doesn’t bother holding back the tears, his face sticky with the clear liquid. It feels good. It feels liberating. As the pain increases he can feel a grounding sensation starting to manifest, quickly spreading from his chest throughout his whole body.

Izaya feels alive, and the realization has another loud whimper fall from his lips.

Above him, Shizuo’s thrusts grow unsteady.

“Fuck,” he hears the blonde mutter, “fuck, Izaya, I’m close…”

“D-don’t come inside!” the young man is quick to stutter. “Please, a-anything but that, Shizuo!”

“Like I care,” he rasps in return. A hand roughly digs into Izaya’s hip, dragging his slim body back to meet each new thrust. “I’m gonna fill you with my cum, and you’ll fucking enjoy it, slut!”

Izaya whimpers, trying to pull away from the bruising grip on his frame. It would surely leave a large mark.

“N-no, Shizuo,” he tries again, his voice absolutely broken by now. “P-please, I’m begging you-“

Above him, Shizuo leans forward in a sudden motion, pushing himself deeper into the smaller body. Izaya moans when his cock drags across his prostate. Between his legs, his own erection stays neglected.

“Ahh, Izaya,” Shizuo mumbles, and the other knows this tone, knows it means the man was close to release. He keeps muttering the raven’s name over and over, accentuating each time with a messy thrust. Izaya keens, the sensation of having his prostate repeatedly teased soon getting too much. He presses his face into the ground, choking back sobs when he releases, coming undone without Shizuo having touched him once.

How embarrassing. How pathetic.

How absolutely gratifying.

The blonde groans when Izaya clenches down on him, the sensation so intense it pushes him right over the edge along with the young man. With a violent shudder, he releases into his partner, dully noting the pitiful whimpers escaping the bruised form underneath. Gingerly, Shizuo pulls out, feeling Izaya tremble at the motion. It’s only the hand on his hip that is keeping him upright at this point, so when Shizuo carefully lowers him to the floor, Izaya slumps into a boneless mess. His muscles are twitching at a phantom sensation, and he can feel the seed trickle down and between his thighs. Every muscle in his body feels exhausted. From the struggling. From the fucking. Being held in an uncomfortable position all this time.

Shizuo’s breath ghosts over his face.

“Forever yours,” Izaya sniffs.

“Forever ours,” he replies in a low voice.

With careful moves the belt wrapped around his arms is released. He can feel Shizuo rubbing the blood back into the numb limbs. Then the weight of the other man is gone. Izaya is still shivering, not being able to lift his head to go looking for the blonde. Even his eyelids feel too heavy to be lifted. The tears have stopped running, now it’s only small hiccups falling from his lips every now and then. He is gently rolled onto his back. Shizuo parts his legs, cleaning him with a warm cloth. Next, he pulls the smaller man into a sitting position, one arm wrapped around his back to keep his weight, with the other hand offering him a glass of water.

“Here, drink this, Izaya.”

Grateful, he accepts the drink, carefully taking small sips. It’s a soothing cold against his throat, raw from all the screaming. Izaya manages to empty half of the glass, before his stomach does a warning flip. Shizuo takes the glass from him again, placing it somewhere aside. The adrenaline in his veins has Izaya still shaking and shivering, and he clings to Shizuo, fingers tangled in the other’s shirt; clings to him as much for support as for comfort. With his knuckles, the blonde gently wipes the salty tears from his cheeks, the spit from his lips, all the while murmuring words of endearment. Izaya can’t tell how long they stayed like this, maybe only a few minutes, maybe an hour. The pleasant haziness in his mind is dulling any of his other senses. It’s only when Shizuo nudges him to stand up, that he slips back to the present situation.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

More than actually walking by himself, Izaya is carried by his partner into the bathroom. They climb into the shower, the warm water a welcomed catharsis for his sore muscles. It’s really only Shizuo who does all the work of rinsing them both down, Izaya too busy clinging to the blonde, not making an effort of helping him in the task. Somehow, he manages to clean them both and even towels the smaller male down after they climbed out. Izaya feels dimly reminded of when he was still small enough for his mother to do that. The comfort of the gesture has him almost tearing up again. In any other situation, Izaya would scold himself for being so emotional, but right now, he feels it just. Shizuo places kisses everywhere on his body, before he covers the parts with fresh clothes. As soon as he stands upright again, having managed to put some socks on Izaya’s feet, the raven clings to him again. He doesn’t mind, welcomes the strange vulnerability, strengthening the grounding feeling that still blooms inside of Izaya’s chest. Shizuo takes his hand, leading him out of the bathroom and into their living room, where they drop down on the couch. Without having to move Izaya from his spot against his chest, Shizuo drapes a large blanket around their shoulders, catching the warmth from the fresh shower on their bodies.

They stay like this for a long time, snuggled up on the small furniture; Shizuo listening to Izaya’s even breathing and Izaya feeling his partner’s heart beat inside of his ribcage in a steady rhythm. From time to time, Shizuo places a kiss atop his head on the still damp hair.

Izaya sighs contentedly, welcoming the fatigue that starts to settle in his bones.

After everything, after all of this, Shizuo is still here. He is holding him, bathing him in silent affection.

Izaya opened up his innermost and the man didn’t run away. Instead, he held Izaya, gave him a safe space where the raven was able to break down and didn’t have to hold back, for once.

He feels calm, satisfied, happy.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against the man’s chest.

“Try to sleep a bit, flea,” comes the low response. Another kiss, the soothing weight of a hand rubbing over his back.

With an ease he hasn’t felt in a long time, Izaya smiles, fading into a dreamless slumber.

They will always have each other, no matter what. This they know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry @anyone who came here for porn and was faced with terrible fluff at the end.
> 
> but remember, kids:
> 
> ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* aftercare is important *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧


	3. first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 12. First time**  
>  Akabayashi/Shiki. AU where they go to high school together. they're both 18 in this story. warnings for brief mentions of physical child abuse.

„Hurry up already.“

„I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Dammit, Mizuki, just do it already! I said I’m fine, just- ahh…”

The rest is cut off when his friend finally complies and presses into him. It’s uncomfortable, and it does hurt, but he won’t tell Mizuki, because if he did the other boy would stop. And that’s not what Haruya wants. They have been looking for a chance to do this for so long. But one way or another something always managed to stop them.

Annoying. Bothersome.

Haruya bites his lip to keep the cry from spilling, presses a hand against his mouth as Mizuki pushes deeper into him, pushing against the slight resistance he’s met with. None of them say a word. None of them are able to form one coherent sentence right now. A shaky breath leaves his lips, when Mizuki’s hips press against his. It’s not exactly the most comfortable position, with him leaning against the desk in the school’s library, putting his weight as well as the redhead’s into the wooden furniture. Haruya huffs, staring at the cuts decorating the table’s surface. Who would be so disrespectful as to carve their name or that of their supposed love into it? Nobody cares anyway, except for the person who so joyfully vandalized something that wasn’t even theirs. His thoughts are circling around this banal issue, trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable press inside of him.

Slowly, Mizuki starts to pull out again. A shudder runs down the brunette’s frame, his nails dragging across the dark wood.

“Are you okay?” he can hear the boy behind him. Somewhat too quickly, he nods in response. But it’s enough to convince Mizuki. “Alright, I’m gonna move now…”

They have never done this before. Not like this. They have tried other things; kissing, petting, even oral. The closest they had ever come to this was when Mizuki fingered him in the boys’ locker room. But that had felt very, _very_ different from what was happening at this moment.

 _How can anyone enjoy this?_ , Haruya wonders. He whimpers when Mizuki draws out almost all the way, only to push back in roughly.

“Sorry,” his friend is quick to apologize. “I’ll be more careful.”

“No, no. It’s fine. Just keep going.” Haruya bites his lips at the next push, but keeps quiet. Mizuki’s thrusts are sloppy, without any apparent rhythm. He is just as excited and nervous about this as Haruya. It’s a comfort, although the brunette would appreciate it if he could just find a steady pace, because, jeez, this is really uncomfortable.

The next thrust has him leaning forward, bracing himself against the library’s table. It shakes with each messy push, but doesn’t slip away.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Mizuki moans. He is obviously enjoying himself more than his friend. “I didn’t imagine it to be this tight…”

“Thanks, I guess,” Haruya mutters, not exactly able to share the boy’s excitement. He can feel Mizuki’s hands on his hips, pulling him into each of his increasingly rougher thrusts.

He stares ahead, out of the dusty window where he can see the sports field of their high school. It’s currently empty, except for a few students lazing about on the porches. The air is filled with dust particles, reflecting the afternoon sun’s light. It’s gotten warm inside the library. Haruya lifts a hand to drag his shirt up a bit, which Mizuki promptly sees as an invitation to let his hand wander over his stomach, and under the thin fabric of his school’s uniform. He moans when the boy squeezes his chest, teasing one of his nipples with his fingers.

“You’re so sensitive there,” Mizuki laughs. He leans forward, until his forehead rests on Haruya’s warm shoulder.

“Ugh, and you’re hot,” Haruya remarks, lightly knocking his elbow into the boy’s stomach. It’s not enough to hurt, but hard enough to push the air from his lungs, resulting in him moving away from the brunette’s shoulder.

“Thank you, you too,” Mizuki chuckles, quickly recovering from the ungentle blow of his friend. It earns him a scuff grunt.

They fall silent, except for the small pants falling from their lips and the light squish between their hips.

“Ah, this feels really good,” Mizuki mumbles. He stares at the space between them, watches his cock draw in and out of the other boy. It glistens with lube and the brunette’s fluids. Haruya’s already too warm cheeks flush even further at those words.

“Speak for yourself,” he mutters dryly. By now the painful stretch has subsided to a dull ache. But there still isn’t much pleasure to take from it. It’s not like they had to dice out who would be the one taking it, Haruya actually volunteered. But in all the porn movies he’s seen the men seemed to enjoy themselves more. At least, definitely more than this. On the other hand, those guys were actors, and paid to make it look like they enjoyed what was done to them.

Haruya feels a bit betrayed.

He doesn’t dare to move his hand from the table, the only thing that keeps him steady against Mizuki’s ongoing thrusts. His own cock stays neglected, his erection having subsided long ago. When they started to make out, Haruya sitting on the table with Mizuki nestled between his opened legs, it pressed eagerly against the curve of his hip. But the unfamiliar ache in his rear had simply demanded all of his concentration, and so the blood promptly flooded back into his brain, making him all too aware of the situation. He frowns and bats the boy’s hand away, when Mizuki reaches for his cock.

“What, I want you to enjoy this, too,” the redhead coaxes. His hand crawls back between his friend’s legs, but again, Haruya shoves it away decisively.

“I am enjoying it,” he lies, not able to put the needed strength behind it to make the words seem convincing. “I just- ah!”

He squeezes his eyes shut at an especially hard thrust.

Yep, he would definitely be sore later.

Behind him, Mizuki has started to pant louder. The little rhythm he eventually found now lost again, he starts to plunge into the other boy at a quicker pace. Haruya’s hand flies up, pressing against his mouth to keep the cry from escaping and alerting anyone close to the library. The last thing he needs is someone to stumble upon this undignified scene, and possibly expel them. He really doesn’t want to imagine what his parents would say if he came home with a note from school saying he was caught fucking in the library.

With another boy, at that.

Knowing his father, he would be in for a beating. A similar thing would happen to Mizuki.

The thought hurt him more than the possibility of his own punishment.

Mizuki moans, his hand rubbing across his belly, gaze still clinging to the cock thrusting into his high school friend. He leans forward, despite Haruya’s protests, leaning his forehead against the brunette’s shoulder. The boy’s smell was so familiar to him by now. The scent of cigarettes, which Haruya likes to smoke during lunch break, and something lighter, sweeter. His mom works in a flower shop, and sometimes after school they would hang around there, finishing their homework – or more like, Haruya finishing his and Mizuki doing anything but – until it got late and time for the redhead to go home to his own place.

He breathes in the soothing mixture. It seems so much more intense than usual.

“Haruya,” he chokes, “I’m gonna-”

The brunette whines, the hand on his mouth falling to grab at the foreign one on his hips. He doesn’t say anything, but Mizuki can feel him nod, strands of hair brushing against his face, a light tickle on his skin.

Reassured, Mizuki’s thrust turn rougher, shorter. It only takes him a few embarrassing moments, until the edging feeling in his cock finally releases, and he comes. A steady stream of curses falls from his lips throughout the orgasm. He ignores the sounds of protest it earns him. The tight heat around him turns slippery, lube mixing with his freshly spilled semen. Haruya winces at the feeling of his friend’s seed dripping down his thighs, but waits patiently until the boy has rode out his orgasm. Mizuki even offered to put on a condom, presenting him the small square package. But he denied. Haruya didn’t say it, but if they finally got to do it, then he wanted to feel as much of his friend as possible, wanted him as close as possible.

It’s a silly twist of emotions. Nothing that would ever have room between them.

But he trusts Mizuki, despite his lopsided smile with the unusual pointy canines, his seemingly untamable, disheveled curls and quick hands, that can be as gentle as they can be violent.

Despite all these things, or maybe even because of, Haruya likes Mizuki.

The fool somehow managed to clumsily tumble his way into the brunette’s life. And at this point he doesn’t want to miss him.

He winces, biting back a curse when Mizuki draws out.

“Jeez, that’s a lot of spunk,” he can hear him mutter, a satiated exhaustion weighing in his voice.

“Bet you’re really proud of yourself.” With the biting comment, Haruya bends to drag the pants pooling around his ankles back on, pulling them over protruding hip bones, a low hiss escaping him when the ache in his behind registers. Mizuki shoots him an apologetic look.

So this was their first time.

Haruya really doesn’t understand why people make such a fuss about it.

 

**-              -              -**

It’s a warm night outside. Akabayashi rolls the sleeves of his shirt up before he steps out of the car. This job shouldn’t take too long, judging by the information his boss has given him. He checks the silencer on his gun, before storing it away in his jacket for now. The address of his job lies somewhere off the city, where people quickly learned it’s better not to meddle in their neighbor’s affairs. If they heard or saw something strange… well, that’s really not their problem. Perfect work conditions for the yakuza. For this reason, Akabayashi didn’t bother to cover his face, not planning on leaving any witnesses that could identify him and cause him trouble. He strolls down the way toward the house’s entrance, past half-torn trash bags and rusty furniture that somebody abandoned at some point. The windows to the small complex are dark. If he was really lucky, he might catch his assigned victims while they’re sleeping. He doesn’t mind a brawl, but his knuckles are still sore from the interrogation from yesterday, and he would prefer to give them a day off, before actually breaking them on accident.

With careful steps, he rounds the building, until he stands in the backyard. It looks just as devastated as the front. Sneaking up on the back entrance, he lifts his hand to push the slide door aside, and stills.

There are visible marks in the wood, suggesting someone has forced their way in.

Akabayashi frowns, and reaches for the gun in his jacket.

Seems like things just got interesting.

He glides through the opened door and into the dark house. It’s completely silent. He ignores the chill running down his spine and ventures into the next room. Same here. There’s a feeling in the back of his neck, like an approaching danger. Instead of listening to his intuition, Akabayashi walks down a hall until he reaches steps that lead him upstairs. He has just climbed the last step, when to his left a dull thud echoes through the darkness. Reflexively, he ducks, peeking around the corner, but finds nothing there.

At the end of the hall a door is standing slightly open, a sparse light flooding the floor.

The gun tightly held in his grip, Akabayashi skulks over to the room. He crouches down, listening for any more sounds. There is a soft shuffle behind the wall. Silently, the redhead counts to three, before jumping up and kicking the door all the way open. He yanks his arm up, the gun pointing ahead of him at whoever is standing in the room.

“Evening,” he drawls, a lopsided smile creeping onto his face.

It’s then that Akabayashi sees the bodies sprawled across the floor.

He quickly counts three, a fourth lying to the feet of the only other man standing.

He stares down the silencer of his gun, over to the dark figure looming over a man, whose clothes are drenched in blood. The body to his feet wheezes his last breath, blood pouring from a deep gash across his throat. The man above him stays unmoving. Akabayashi gulps against the suddenly excited thudding of his heart. He grabs the gun with his other hand.

Things got _really_ interesting by now.

“Guess I’m not the only visitor these guys had tonight,” he rasps. “Okay, hands up and behind your neck. No funny stuff now. I don’t mind blasting you a new one… but first, I’d like to see the guy who made my life a lot easier.”

Slowly, the man lifts his hands, the skin across his right knuckles visibly split open, and puts them behind his head in a calm motion.

“Alright, that’s a good boy. Now, turn around. Let me see your face…”

The stranger complies. Akabayashi holds his breath in anticipation.

As the man steps out of the shadows, he can feel his heart drop ten floors.

He stares at the face, changed by the hand of time, with visible marks that didn’t use to be there, when they were still two boys trying to find their place in life.

The gun in his hand suddenly feels heavier.

“H… Haruya?” he whispers, the excitement completely drained from his voice.

At the other end of the barrel, the brunette regards him with a long look.

Both men stare at each other, mustering the familiar yet foreign appearance up and down. The first thing Akabayashi notices is how slim his high school friend still is. He has always been on the bony side, even back in school, although he was much smaller then. Always a bit smaller than the redhead. And he still is, from what Akabayashi can tell at this distance. Not by much, but if he stood closer, his dark tousled hair would brush against the yakuza’s nose. It’s a strange thought, regarding the situation, but Akabayashi can’t help it. This is simply what happens when things take you by surprise. For a moment, your domain of thought will be out of control, random ideas surfacing, only to be quickly drowned out by the next; without any of them being of any use. Instead, he remembers all those hours they spent on the school’s rooftop; in the library; on the streets of Tokyo. Anywhere but home, where they couldn’t find the comfort they found in each other. All those times, all those hushed words and nervous touches. Making a lot of their first times together. First kiss. First cigarette. First one to brush over new bruises that weren’t from falling down the stairs.

How could they lose each other out of sight after all of that?

Akabayashi doesn’t remember. But he remembers everything else.

Within three strides, he crosses the distance between them, ignoring the surprised expression on Shiki’s features, and kisses him. It’s not shy or tender; it’s desperate and blunt. The gun drops to the floor, as he lifts both hands to cup the man’s face in his hands. Shiki mumbles into the kiss, words the redhead can’t understand with his lips eagerly pressing against the other’s. So he pulls back, gives the brunette just enough room to speak.

“It’s nice seeing you again, too,” Shiki murmurs.

It earns him a small but honest laugh.

It earns him a sting in his heart.

They lean into each other, practically melting into the form against them. There is the taste of nicotine on Shiki’s lips, same brand as it had been all those years back. A moan escapes him when the smaller man bites at his bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to have him bucking into the other’s hips. His hands fall from his face, onto a slim waist, not wasting any time to tuck the shirt stuffed into his pants free and running his hands over the warm body beneath. It feels different; there are bumps indicating old scars here and there, and lean muscles under soft skin. Shiki doesn’t say another word, only growls impatiently as he pulls at Akabayashi’s jacket, nudging him to remove the fabric. In a swift motion, the man slips out of it, as the brunette busies with the buttons of his shirt, simply tearing it open when it takes too long. The small buttons go flying everywhere.

A hand flies up to grab Shiki’s jaw, squeezing it.

“I liked that shirt,” Akabayashi growls lowly.

Shiki presents him with a toothy smile in return.

“I like it better this way,” he rumbles, accentuating his statement with blunt nails dragging across a toned stomach.

Akabayashi huffs, and he yanks the smaller man back into a bruising kiss. There are teeth again, and the familiar taste of copper sends his head into a spin. It takes him a moment to realize the fingers flying over his belt, unbuckling it swiftly, and then there is a hand shoving into his boxers. He groans as Shiki squeezes his erection, feels the other’s smile against his lips. When he pulls back, he is met with the picture of the smirking brunette; the cut on his lower lip reopened, earned before Akabayashi arrived at the scene, and slightly bleeding, cheeks flushed and hair in a complete disarray. It’s a picture he has missed, without ever having realized how much he dreaded to see his high school friend like this again.

He wants to tell him, wants to let Shiki know of his frantic thoughts.

How he missed him.

How he wonders what happened to the boy from back then.

But there is no place for such thoughts. And so he swallows them down, diving back in for another hungry kiss. Shiki strokes him all the while, pulls small gasps from the tall redhead. Despite all these years, he remembers how the man liked his hand jobs, how he can easily bring him to the verge of desperation. His own erection presses eagerly against his leg, but he ignores it for now. It’s too much fun to finally be able to watch Akabayashi squirm under his touch again. He lolls his head to the side when soft lips begin to wander over his neck, sucking the spot right over his pulse. Shiki gives the dick in his hand a warning squeeze, regaining the man’s attention.

“No hickeys,” he mutters.

The other one stops, but not without an amused chuckle.

“You were never fond of those. Even back then.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they look stupid.”

Akabayashi laughs, but complies. Instead, he busies himself with Shiki’s belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers. It’s not that he’s nervous; he is _starved_. Any second he is not able to connect with the brunette’s skin is a second wasted. When he finally manages to open the man’s slacks, eagerly pushing his hand past the fabric of his briefs and around his hot cock, both men are shuddering.

“Fuck,” Akabayashi curses, feeling the brunette’s thumb drag across the slit in his cock. “I need you. Fucking hell, I just-… I need you so badly.”

Shiki watches him out of sharp eyes. Before him, Akabayashi is about to fall apart, mouth hanging open, eyelids heavy with the increasing pleasure he receives from the skillful hand around him. He bathes in the satisfaction of being this wanted, still, by his old friend. Right before he knocks a knee into Akabayashi’s leg and throws him off his balance. The redhead goes down onto the hard floor, gasping when the air forcefully leaves his lungs. He stares up at Shiki looming above him. There is a hunger in the brunette’s eyes, something he hasn’t seen like this before.

Awestruck, he lays still, just waiting for the eventual pounce.

Shiki steps forward, standing over the sprawled out man beneath him. Against his belly nuzzles the prominent erection, the thick cock already leaking precum. Involuntarily, the brunette licks his lips, all too well remembering the taste of his high school friend. He always enjoyed to go down on the other, loved the needy sounds Akabayashi produced when he swallowed his cock. It made him feel in control. For a man like him, the ultimate thrill.

But in this moment, he needs something else; needs to be able to feel the man as close as possible.

He kneels down, straddling the redhead. The greedy hands are welcomed and he leans down to reclaim Akabayashi’s mouth. When the other man begins to tug at his pants, he lifts himself up a bit, easing the process of pulling them down his hips just enough so his rear is exposed. It’s all very messy, without any real coordination. As Shiki pulls back, his lips are replaced by fingers inside Akabayashi’s mouth, urging him on to wet them properly. He obediently sucks on them, pushes his tongue between the spaces and savors the salty taste. They feel rough against his lips. His hands keep busy by grinding Shiki’s hips down on his own, the friction delightful but way too little to get him off. The brunette catches the desperation in his moves, and smiles. A moan releases from Akabayashi’s throat, unable to protest with his tongue being currently occupied. The fingers are retrieved, a bit of spit clinging to the red head’s chin, as Shiki leans forward. His mouth falls open, but no sound escapes, while he pushes the slick fingers into himself. Beneath him, Akabayashi watches him out of bright eyes. His friend looks just as flustered and helpless as the very first time, back then, in their school’s library. It’s a strangely comforting thought, Shiki not being able to bring up any mock, instead feeling the dull ache of nostalgia bloom inside his chest.

How silly.

He grunts when Akabayashi still stares up at him, not being able to avert his gaze from the brunette stretching himself atop him.

“If you want this here to happen anytime soon you gotta work with me, Mizuki,” he rasps, a light sweat breaking on his skin. The taller man flinches at the sound of his name falling from the man’s lips above him. It has been so long, too long. He wants to hear Shiki speak his name over and over again, until he feels satiated. But now is not the time. He spits into his hand, once, twice, reaching between them to slicken his cock as best as he can. It will hurt anyway, but Shiki doesn’t give the impression of caring much.

Akabayashi tries to keep still and even his breathing when the man finally reaches for his cock, lining it up with his barely stretched hole, and sinks down.

“Fucking… Christ,” Akabayashi manages to press out, momentarily overwhelmed by the tightness engulfing him. His fingers dig into the yakuza’s slim hips, dragging him further down, despite the pain it must cause Shiki. But the brunette is silent, eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration, as he breathes against the ache inside of him.

It doesn’t matter. The pain is of no matter, if it means he gets to devour the other man right then and there.

Shiki always had a high pain tolerance. It’s something that keeps coming in handy in his line of business.

He has barely settled atop the redhead, when he lifts his hip up again, roughly pushing back down. Shiki leans back, bracing his hands against Akabayashi’s thighs, and begins to ride the man. His eyes never waver from the yakuza, gaze glued to every fracture of an expression Akabayashi gives him. The heart inside his ribcage beats excitedly, spurred on by adrenaline and a lust he hasn’t felt in a while. Beneath him, Akabayashi cranes his head, catching his hard look.

He knows what the man is about to say before the words fall from his mouth.

“You alright?” Akabayashi inquires, trying to read the brunette’s expression.

Shiki smirks, a lazy smile pulling at his bruised lips.

“Just peachy,” he rasps and, at Akabayashi’s concerned expression, adds, “What, you think you were my only one? A lot of years have gone by, and a lot of other guys. I know how to handle myself, Mizuki.”

At those words, the unreasonable jealousy announces itself with a harsh pinch.

Almost stubbornly, as if to prove some senseless point, he reaches up to span his fingers across Shiki’s waist, and forcefully pulls him down onto him.

The smaller man groans, only to have a husky laugh leave his mouth the next second. The gratification is apparent in his eyes, the knowledge of what his words are doing to his old friend. He grinds down on the thick cock, motioning his hips in a circle. A shaky breath leaves his lungs when Akabayashi rubs against his prostate. He repeats the motion, feeling the edge building up in his groin. A pressure that quickly turns unbearable. With as much grace as he can master in this moment, Shiki leans forward, bracing both hands next to Akabayashi’s head.

The bodies around watch them out of dead, dull eyes. Blood that managed to dripple through the creaks of the wooden floor pools around Akabayashi’s head, but the man doesn’t seem to have noticed. Or it simply doesn’t bother him. Shiki just knows this is a common sight to the yakuza, just like it is to him.

Oh, how the years changed them both.

He pries a hand off his waist, only to wrap the long fingers around his own erection. Without having to command him, Akabayashi starts to pump his dick in rhythm to Shiki’s uncoordinated bounces. When he decides that his partner is way too silent, he digs his feet into the ground beneath, and thrusts up into the other man. Shiki gasps, his features opening up at the pleasurable sensation for a small second, before he claws his composure back together. A dismissive clicking of tongue is heard when he finds Akabayashi’s not so ingenuous grin.

“Still the same fucker as back then,” he manages between heavy breaths. The redhead chuckles as if to confirm his statement.

Blunt nails dig into the hard ground when Shiki feels himself edging on an orgasm. He doesn’t take his eyes off the man underneath, seeing a familiar expression that indicates Akabayashi is just as close as him.

“You never came with me inside of you,” he suddenly rasps.

Shiki frowns.

“’Cause you were god-awful at it,” he retorts. But Akabayashi hasn’t meant it as an accusation, this he realizes when there is a strange need brightening the man’s eyes.

“I want it to be different this time,” the redhead mutters, tightening his grip on the man’s erection in his hand, watches his face slip. Small puffs are leaving the figure above him, expression loosening up as Shiki sloppily rides the yakuza, slipping closer and closer to the edge.

“Come on,” Akabayashi coaxes, rubbing his thumb against the slicked cock in his fingers. “Come now, Haruya, just let it go.”

The dark rasp of the man’s voice has Shiki buck into the grip on his dick. Through the fog inside his mind, he hears himself mutter the familiar name over and over again, a steady mantra. Akabayashi’s lips are bitten red.

Just as they curl into a lopsided smile, he comes undone.

With a choked cry his form hunches up, feeling his cock spurt cum all over Akabayashi’s belly and the fingers milking the last bit of seed out of him. It’s as if he is packed in cotton, the sounds momentarily swallowed by the haze engulfing him. Dimly, he notices Akabayashi pressing his name out between gritted teeth, and then there is a familiar wetness spilling inside of him. It forces a shudder through his frame.

He can’t remember the last time he let someone come inside of him. It’s a level of comfortableness he doesn’t achieve with anyone anymore these days; doesn’t feel the need to strive after anyway.

For a long moment, both men are occupied trying to catch their breaths and to calm their excited heart beats.

“Fucking hell,” Shiki hears the other mutter. He cracks his eyes open to the sight of Akabayashi staring at his belly, covered in another man’s semen. A rough chuckle manages to leave his suddenly very dry throat when the taller man shoots him an accusing glare. “When was the last time you shagged, huh? Five years ago? Jesus Christ, look at this mess…”

“Quite a lot of spunk, huh.”

“Yeah, bet you’re real proud of yourself.”

Shiki makes to move off the redhead, gingerly pushing up and cringing at the wetness between his thighs. Just like back then, the other had managed to make a complete mess of them both. He’s torn between scolding Akabayashi and allowing the strange bud of nostalgia. In the end, he lets the mixture be, staying silent. The aftermath is quiet, as both adjust their clothes. With resignation, Shiki accepts that he will have to clean himself up later. As Akabayashi sits up, absentmindedly wiping his hand on his pants, he strolls over to the small couch in the room. There is a familiar ache in his lower body, but he covers the uncomfortable sensation up with a huff, fingering for a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his shirt. The other man watches him as he puts one between his lips, lighting it with a memorized motion. He scoots over when Akabayashi flops down next to him.

Silence fills the room around them. Occasionally, their shoulders brush against each other, but apart from that they leave each other be, their hunger satisfied for now.

“I always thought you’d end up a doctor,” Akabayashi muses into the quiet. Shiki shrugs in response.

“Didn’t happen.”

“Yeah,” Akabayashi mumbles, looking at the dead bodies sprawled around them. “Unfortunately for these guys. You left Tokyo after high school… when did you come back?”

There is the undertone of an accusation in the words, but Shiki knocks it aside. He exhales, the smoke dancing lazily before their faces.

“Too soon,” he answers lowly.

Akabayashi can see that his friend doesn’t want to talk about it, but he can’t help the curiosity gnawing at his insides. He wants to know, wants to be able to catch up with the man who used to be his only comfort. Almost stubbornly he pushes aside the thought that maybe he’s already too late for that.

“So, you’re in the business?”

“What business?”

“The kind of business where you walk into people’s houses to butcher them. Jeez, what even happened here?”

Shiki’s gaze goes off into the distance. For a small moment, a frown deepens the crease between his eyebrows, but it’s gone before Akabayashi can interpret anything into it.

“Conflict of opinion,” the brunette mumbles slowly.

“What about the bodies?

“We have people who clean that up.”

“We? You mean, the organization you work for?” Akabayashi probes. It earns him a gruff sideglance, but Shiki nods. “Huh. Must be some fancy organization.”

“The pay is alright.”

There is a knot where his stomach is supposed to be, and Akabayashi wishes he could simply push all those strange sensations aside that seem to overwhelm him at any moment. He has the urge to reach out for the man next to him, in hopes of finding the familiarity of the boy he used to be. Suddenly, the instability of his own life seems too much for one man to bear. But what can Shiki do? How can a blind lead the blind?

It’s just hopeless.

“What about you?”

The words seem alien in the heavy silence. Akabayashi muses the question over for a moment, tries to settle on an answer that isn’t going to leave him in the open, leave him vulnerable to Shiki’s sharp eyes. He always was an open book to the smart boy back then, and there is no doubts he can still see through his any intention.

“Never got out of Tokyo,” he replies eventually.

Out of the periphery of his eyes, Akabayashi watches the brunette kneading his bloodied hands inside his lap. He seems perfectly composed, except for the nervous gesture of turning the ring on his right hand back and forth.

There is a vice around his heart, and it bruises the fragile organ steadily.

“We should get going.”

Shiki rises next to him, a bit of ash falling off the cigarette’s tip.

“And don’t forget your gun, idiot. I don’t wanna have to explain your presence to my boss, alright.”

The weapon is shoved into the back of his slacks, as Akabayashi watches the brunette. He bends to pick up a switch knife, wiping it on the dark pants before flipping the blade back in. It vanishes in the pocket. As Shiki is about to step out of the room, a voice from behind halts him.

“Put this on. The people here might be careless, but when they see someone drenched in blood, you can be sure they’ll call the coppers.”

The jacket hangs heavy in his hand. For a moment, Shiki just stares at it, like it might jump him any moment. Then he reaches out.

“Guess you’re not that stupid after all,” he mumbles. The cigarette balances between his lips and a lazy smile.

Akabayashi snorts.

“Yeah, I had to resort to using my own brain after you were gone.”

The relaxed nonchalance that managed to settle between them is gone just like that. Shiki’s smile turns into a frown. The look he’s offering his high school friend free of warmth. The jacket is a good size too large for the smaller man, its form ill-sitting on his bony shoulders. It doesn’t matter what Shiki puts on, the clothes always seem unwilling to accommodate his frame properly. Akabayashi’s eyes turn glassy and he quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to see something in the redhead’s eyes that might be open to his own interpretation.

“Let’s go,” he simply says, and heads for the door.

Behind him, Akabayashi follows silently.

The house is dark and quiet, their steps disrupting the false peace of it. Only the small light from the house next door, falling into the windows of the backdoor, signals their way. Shiki waits outside as the other man closes the door behind them. They walk the short way to the front of the house, checking the street for any witnessing eyes. When they realize they are alone, Akabayashi manages to speak up, the question that has been steadily turning in his mind now clumsily falling from his lips.

“Will I see you again?”

With a fluid motion, Shiki flicks away the burnt down stub of his cigarette.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he drawls lowly.

In the distance, a street light flickers, the weak shine not doing much to illuminate the pavement beneath it. Finally, he looks back at Akabayashi. In the dim light, his face seems to haven’t changed at all. These are still the same eyes, the same lost expression, the same stubborn nature.

This man is the personification of _I should know better_.

Against the voice of reason, he allows the sweet nostalgia to bury its thorn deep into his heart.

“We’re in Tokyo,” he begins instead. “One way or another we’ll meet again. After all, we’re bastards beyond reclaim, right? Also, I don’t plan on keeping your ugly jacket.”

Before his mind can overflow with old images, he turns away from the other man, making his way down the street towards a dark car.

There is the hint of a promise. A quiet maybe, that steadily grows into a firm definitely.

Akabayashi eases under the implications and watches the figure vanish into the dark of the night.

When two people are bound for hell, they can be sure to end up in the same story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it had to be a high school au when i saw [this lovely piece](http://i.imgur.com/aC4WbXA.png/). sadly, i couldn't find the proper source, so if anybody knows, send me a message on my [dumblr dot com](http://sewrprince.tumblr.com/).


	4. voyeurism & panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 6 & 30\. ~~Corsets~~ Panties / Voyeurism**  
>  Shizuo/Izaya. both are struggling with their long-distance relationship. izaya gets creative to keep things between him and shizuo interesting. established relationship. dirty talk. masturbation.

The screen jumps awake, flooding the small room with a dull grey light. Shizuo rubs over his face. Earlier, he dared a quick look into the mirror. The exhaustion is written all over his features, and he wonders whether he might fall asleep in the middle of their call yet again. Usually, Izaya calls him during his lunch break. That means a time of 2 AM for Shizuo. Nothing he isn’t used to from his work as a bartender. But lately, he has to do more early shifts, which means he has to be on the spot and ready for action before noon. Which, in turn, means shorter nights, because the blonde would rather miss out on a few hours of sleep than a call from his boyfriend. Izaya is overseas for work, has been for the past six weeks, and it starts to take a strain on both men. Either way, one of them always has to sacrifice something.

And usually it’s their sleep.

But they promised to each other, the night before Izaya left for Chicago, they would make this work. None of them has imagined it to be this complicated, though. The lack of sleep due to the unkind time difference of fourteen hours wasn’t even the hardest obstacle to tackle, as they quickly realized. Seeing each other displayed on their monitors, hearing the other’s voice, but all of it without being able to touch each other, kiss each other, was difficult. The extra-long kiss Izaya gave him before his flight wasn’t able to cover the longing growing deep into his bones every time Shizuo sees the raven’s face, listens to his cheery voice and watches those familiar shoulders tremble in light chuckles.

By now, the ache inside his chest is triggered just by the sound of an incoming Skype call. Again, Shizuo rubs over his face, draws a hand through his hair, and puts on a smile that would hopefully cover up the fact that he feels a lot like fainting on the spot. He accepts the call, and the window widens, presenting him with a familiar face. Shizuo swallows against the lump in his throat.

“Hey you,” he greets the young man. Izaya made it a hobby to make his entrances as dramatic as possible. This time, he spins around in a black swivel chair, quick hands grabbing the table’s edge to keep himself from turning another round.

“Morning, Shizu-chan! Or should I say night instead?”

“Make it night,” Shizuo mumbles, almost letting himself be tempted to yawn, but quickly covering it up with a cough. “I haven’t slept yet, so it’s still night.”

“I see, I see!” Izaya chirps. He leans forward, resting his chin in a hand, presenting his lover with a bright smile. “Shizu-chan, do you notice anything?”

Shizuo squints his eyes at that, leaning forward in turn to take in what he can of the young man’s surroundings. For a moment, both are silent, Izaya patiently waiting for the blonde’s findings.

“You’re not at work,” Shizuo says then, having realized the background of tonight’s call to be different.

“Correct!” the raven lilts. “I’m at home right now. Well, my home _here_ , so it’s not actually home. Rather my humble accommodation.”

Humble, in Izaya’s world, is a very far stretch from what Shizuo would call it. The apartment his organization has housed him is about three times as large as Shizuo’s tiny apartment. Izaya often complains about the small space, nudging Shizuo to move in with him instead, but the blonde liked his apartment. It was small, with very little distractions. Sometimes, that’s exactly what he needs, the chance to withdraw for a while. As much as he adores his extroverted partner, private space is something Shizuo can’t let go of yet. It usually leads to heated discussions between the two men. But as of lately, since Izaya travelled far away for work, it’s not a topic of importance anymore.

Right then, Shizuo would have loved the prospect of having his lover as close as possible. What do they say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder? That saying might hit a bit too close to home for him.

“So what’s the occasion?” Shizuo asks, as he readjusts his position on the floor. Despite his protests, Izaya has bought him a new computer, complete with a screen that seems way too big, a mouse, and a mechanical keyboard.

“Consider it preparation for the next few months,” the raven said, and then frowned as he had watched Shizuo spread the newly acquired belongings out on the floor. Since the blonde has no other need for a computer, he didn’t find it necessary to place it on a desk.

“I like it better this way,” he mumbled, purposefully ignoring Izaya’s reproachful gaze.

Shizuo leans back against the wall behind him. His bed consists of a mattress with a crumpled blanket and a single pillow. He prefers to keep things simple in his life. Everything is simple, except for Izaya. The young man is like a buzzing source of variables and a rather shaky balance. As different as they are, this is where they complement each other, making up for any flaws the other might have. Shizuo gladly welcomes the quirky, sometimes even flamboyant, raven-haired man.

Picking up on his question, Izaya cocks his head, the way he always does when he’s about to present a new idea. Shizuo can feel his stomach flutter in apprehension. Izaya’s ideas tend to be somewhat sketchy at times, usually borderline illegal.

“Oh, you know,” he starts, trying for a casual tone, but the blonde is able to catch the sinister glimmer in his eyes. “Earlier, I was walking down the shopping area, since it’s close to work. And then I stumbled upon this shop. Hm, what was it called? Victoria’s Secret? I’m not sure. Have you heard of that before, Shizu-chan?”

At the familiar name, Shizuo perks up. He frowns, as Izaya’s smile grows. “Yeah, th-that’s a lingerie brand, or not?”

“Oh, Shizu-chan is such a pervert for knowing that,” Izaya coos. “Does Shizu-chan like women’s lingerie or something?”

Instantly, the blood shoots into Shizuo’s cheeks, and his face heats up. “H-hey now! You’re the one who started talking about that.”

“Oh, so you’re not interested? Too bad, guess I will have to bring this back then.”

With those words, Izaya reaches for something out of his partner’s sight, carefully placing an elegantly formed shopping bag on the table before him. Shizuo’s eyes fly over the golden letters, the bright pink stinging a bit in his tired eyes.

“Izaya,” he begins, “what is that?”

“Don’t be such a protozoan, Shizu-chan. Have you lost your ability to read while I was gone? I should have known I was the only educational aspect of your life.”

“I can read,” Shizuo growls, feeling annoyance start to mix with his exhaustion. “But what –“

Without waiting for the man to finish his question, Izaya starts to unbutton his shirt. Shizuo’s throat turns dry.

“I was a bit naughty, Shizu-chan,” Izaya purrs. “I told my boss I had an important doctor’s appointment, so I would take the rest of the day off. But that’s not true. I just wanted to spend more time with Shizu-chan. After all, it’s been a while…”

Shizuo knows what the other man is referring to. It has been a while since the last time they got intimate. This part has to be the hardest of them all. The first two weeks, it was endurable. Sure, Shizuo craved his partner, but it was more important for Izaya to get settled in the new environment, and so he pushed his own needs aside. It was only when, after a good three weeks of jerking off by himself at night, a worn shirt of Izaya pressed to his nose, that the young man answered his call in nothing but a towel.

“Sorry, Shizu-chan, I just got home and out of the shower. Today has been so stressful, you wouldn’t believe it,” he said, oblivious to the way the blonde was staring at his half-naked form.

That was the first time they tried Skype sex. Really, it was just both of them jerking off in their apartments, describing all the dirty things they would love to do to each other in that moment, but it was still better than nothing. Shizuo tried to ignore the empty ache in his heart after they were done, because he couldn’t hold Izaya close like he usually did.

It earned both of them a bit of relief, and for that he was thankful.

Now, he drinks in the sight of his boyfriend, as Izaya lets the fabric of his shirt slip over slim shoulders.

“I just really want to show Shizu-chan what I bought,” Izaya continues. He pushes aside the shopping bag, and stands. This way, Shizuo is only able to see the lower half of the man’s body, but he can imagine the smirk spreading Izaya’s lips as pale fingers start to unbutton the dark jeans, teasingly slow dragging down the zipper, before pushing the fabric lower, just as slowly, over delicate hips. Just when the jeans slip over familiar hipbones, Shizuo catches a glimpse of something red and lacy. He leans forward, closer to the monitor. The pants sink to the floor and out of his sight, and now it’s only Izaya standing before him, presenting him the fine women lingerie that fits his form way too snugly. He swallows when he realizes the small bulge at the front.

Slim hands start to run down Izaya’s stomach, reaching lower and lower until the tips of his fingers slide under the waistband of the panties, teasing Shizuo. Without being able to see his face still, he can hear Izaya speak up. His tone is heavy, and smooth as silk.

“So, what does Shizu-chan think? Does this look good on me?”

It takes him a moment before he finds his voice.

“Izaya,” Shizuo rasps. In a fluid motion, the other man bends down, the webcam catching the concerned expression on his face.

“Shizu-chan?”

“I need you,” the blonde says, voice shaking the slightest bit.

“Shizu –“

“Sit down,” Shizuo commands. Satisfaction jumps through his system, as he watches Izaya comply immediately. The raven obediently sits down in the swivel chair, watching the familiar face on his screen with bright eyes. “Now, touch yourself.”

Izaya doesn’t say anything. He knows this tone, adores this tone, when Shizuo is ready to take the lead. When he is not afraid of asking for his own pleasure. It always means a great deal of fun for Izaya, as well.

With coy fingers, Izaya starts to brush over his naked chest, the other hand slowly pushing between his thighs.

“Like this, Shizu-chan?”

“Yeah, that’s good. Play with your nipples. I know how sensitive you are there.”

Izaya whines, but complies. He catches a nipple between two fingers, gently teasing it. A spark runs through his spine, and he arches into the touch. The hand between his thighs digs in more persistently, and Izaya spreads his legs the slightest bit. Shizuo watches the motion, feeling how his own cock twitches in interest.

“Good boy,” he rumbles. “Keep playing with yourself.”

“Ah, Shizu-chan,” Izaya gasps, allowing the hand between his thighs to wander a bit, now rubbing over his dick trapped inside the lacy panties. The next whine is silenced, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Shizuo clicks his tongue at the chaste behavior.

“I wanna hear you, Izaya,” he rumbles. His own hand beginning to unbutton his pants, relieving himself off a bit of pressure. “Come on, let me hear you.”

Izaya moans, the hand on his chest squeezing tighter now. The sensation is close to being painful, and, as the masochist that Izaya is, sends a shiver down his back. Shizuo greedily drinks in the picture of his lover teasing himself, knowing, if those were his hands, he would turn Izaya into a trembling mess within minutes. But for now, this has to suffice.

“I want to-,” Izaya begins, cutting himself off with the next whine. The hand between his legs rubs at the bulge more persistently, and a dark spot starts to spread on the front. Izaya’s cock has always been very eager to leak a lot of precum, something Shizuo loves to tease the smaller man with. Seeing the stain on the red fabric, he feels a pleasant warmth settling in his groin. Shizuo chuckles at the increasing desperation of his lover.

“What do you want, Izaya? Tell me.”

“I want to – ahh! – I want to get off with Shizu-chan watching me.”

The blonde growls, fingers shoving down the fabric of his pants and briefs, grabbing his hot cock.

“You wanna fuck yourself? Fuck yourself on your own fingers, and imagine them to be mine?” he teases the other man. Izaya nods hastily, the motion freeing a strand of black from behind his ear. “Oh, Izaya… how often have you played with yourself and wished I was the one fucking your slutty ass? Just how needy are you, hm?”

The raven’s cheek flush at the crude words, humiliation settling in his bones, spurring him own.

“Every-… every night,” he admits in a small voice, looking at the blonde through his dark lashes.

Shizuo sucks in the air harshly at those words. Instantly, a picture forms before his inner eye; Izaya turning and twisting in his bed, pleasuring himself, moaning Shizuo’s name.

“Such a needy slut,” he rumbles. “I bet my cock is the only thing that can satisfy you.”

Izaya nods again. He leans back, opening his legs, presenting himself to the other man. It’s only then that Shizuo sees the gap in the fabric.

“Turn around,” he commands. “Let me see your behind.”

On shaky legs, Izaya climbs his chair, both knees pressing into the leather as he leans forward. Shizuo stares at the picture. The lacy fabric ends just so it exposes the young man’s rear, a small ribbon sitting atop his tailbone. Over his shoulder, Izaya bats his lashes at him.

“You dirty little fucker,” Shizuo croaks. “Sometimes, I can’t believe what a whore you are.”

Izaya snickers, the condescending words only fueling his playfulness.

“You like them?” he coos, a slim hand already running down his back and over the exposed skin. When a finger slips between firm ass cheeks, teasing his entrance, Shizuo jerks a bit forward.

“Fuck,” the blonde curses. “Fuck, Izaya, I need you so badly!”

Izaya purrs, feeling how his lover’s desire caresses his own ego. He knows how he can drive the taller man crazy, what buttons he has to push so Shizuo forgets all self-control and ravishes Izaya on the spot. It’s always such a delight to watch the blonde fall apart under his ministrations.

“Sit down,” Shizuo mumbles, “I wanna see you fuck that tight little hole of yours.”

With a smooth motion, Izaya glides back down on the chair. He planned ahead, and so he simply opens the drawer of his desk, retrieving the bottle of lube. It’s flavored, the taste being strawberry. Izaya doesn’t mind it, but he knows how Shizuo prefers the sweetly flavored lubes, how eager he gets with it when eating the smaller man out. So, this is simply to tease the man further, something Shizuo is well aware of. The first time he watched Izaya bring the flavored lube to light, he cursed, his desire to fuck the raven into the ground having turned almost unbearable.

He pours a generous amount on his fingers, knowing exactly how much he needs to make the stretching not uncomfortable. As he does so, he watches Shizuo intently. With both feet planted on the table’s edge, he is completely spread open, exposing himself to the blonde. As his fingers slowly wander between his legs, Shizuo leans forward. Izaya smirks when he catches a tongue dart out to lick over the blonde’s lips.

With a light gasp, Izaya pushes a finger in, feeling himself stretch around the intrusion. Shizuo curses under his breath, and his own hand reaches down to start stroking himself lazily. The whole scene has a very lewd vibe to it, as the blonde sits in the dark room, face and body illuminated by the dull light of his screen. Izaya chuckles, and pushes in a second finger.

“Ahh, Shizu-chan,” he purrs, eyelids fluttering as he pushes deeper, curling his fingers to rub against the spongy bundle inside. “This feels so good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does,” Shizuo whispers, but still audible to the other man. “I know you can take more than that, though. Come on, Izaya, I wanna see you fuck yourself properly.”

With a low whine, the raven complies. As he pulls out, a third fingers joins the other two. The stretch hasn’t been enough yet, and Izaya leans his head against the backrest of the chair, feeling a familiar ache in his rear as he pushes all three fingers back in.

“Shizu-chan,” he whimpers, realizing with slight embarrassment how his voice breaks off at the end. Slowly, he moves his fingers, fucking himself at a lazy pace. A pair of brown eyes is watching him intently, drinking in every little motion. A small squelching noise wavers through the air, sounding obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet spaces of Izaya’s apartment. He whimpers. Shizuo groans. Through dark lashes, Izaya watches his lover, noticing how his hand works the erection between his legs faster now. He listens to the drag of Shizuo’s hand along his cock, stopping now and then to run his thumb over the tip, shuddering every time he does so.

His own hand, the one not occupied with fucking his hole, wanders between his legs, rubbing over the cock still trapped inside the lace panties. The fabric is straining against his dick, the tip having managed to peek out from under the waistband.

“Look, Shizu-chan,” Izaya chuckles. “I’m too big for my panties.”

He receives a low groan in return.

“Don’t touch your cock,” Shizuo rasps. “I know you can come just from playing with your ass. Izaya, I wanna see you come just by fucking yourself like this.”

The hand lingering over his leaking cock stops short. For a moment, Izaya plays with the thought of disobeying his lover, but then he decides against it. It’s nice to give away control from time to time, and Shizuo is putting on such a good show today. The hand retracts, instead massaging the insides of his thighs as his fingers keep thrusting in and out of his hole. A light sweat has broken on his skin, shimmering in the sun’s light falling through the windows. Shizuo licks his lips again, and imagines they are dragging over Izaya’s pronounced clavicles. He knows all of the man’s soft spots; where to nibble, where to bite, where to drag his nails over the pale skin and watch it flare up in an angry red. Shizuo moans, and his fingers fly over the erection in his hands. It’s gotten incredibly hot in his room, but he can’t be bothered to take off his shirt. The prospect of missing only one second of his boyfriend pleasuring himself is not worth it.

“I wish I could touch you right now,” he mumbles, hissing when his thumb drags over the slit of his cock. “Fuck, you look so beautiful, Izaya.”

The raven chuckles, which turns into a needy whimper as the fingers drag over his prostate. He wants to touch himself so badly, wants to come to the sight of Shizuo jerking himself off, but the blonde commanded him not to, and Izaya feels his submissive side craving to obey.

“If Shizu-chan was here,” he begins, voice shaking, “he could bend me over the table and fuck me from behind. He could rip the panties off my hips and stuff them in my mouth, fucking me until I come on his fat cock. Ahh-… I wish Shizu-chan was here now.”

“Holy shit, Izaya,” Shizuo curses. He leans back, knocking his head against the wall behind him in hopes of getting a grip on himself again. The lust is overwhelming. As much as he wants to come, he would rather drag this play out for a while longer. But it has been so long already, too long really.

He watches Izaya, realizes the tremble in the smaller man’s thighs, how his back arches into his own touch. Izaya’s eyes are pressed shut, and he knows the raven is close.

“Hey, don’t close your eyes. Look at me, Izaya. I wanna see you,” he mumbles, voice shaky and already slightly out of breath.

With a low whine, Izaya’s eyelids flutter open. Vermillion eyes stare back at him, watching him closely. Shizuo can see the desperation in them.

“You wanna come, don’t you?” he asks, chuckling when, instead of a response, Izaya’s whole body jerks. “That’s alright. You’ve been such a good boy. You can come now, Izaya.”

A sob breaks free from the raven’s lips. The hand on his own thigh digs in painfully, and Izaya swallows against the lump in his throat.

“Thank you,” he whimpers, looking directly at Shizuo. A mess of blond curls and needy sounds. The man he desires more than anything. With a harsh motion, Izaya shoves three fingers as deep as he can inside himself, curling them, feeling the press against his belly. With a choked off cry, he comes. The cock still trapped inside the panties spurts a generous amount, the load of cum covering Izaya’s chest. For a moment, Izaya almost goes deaf, only hearing the hot rush of blood inside his ears as he keeps fucking himself through his own orgasm. With hazy eyes, he watches Shizuo, watches his mouth form around Izaya’s name as the blonde comes. The hand on his cock squeezes every last bit of semen out of himself, massaging the tip of his dick as Shizuo’s eyes cling to Izaya. The raven shudders, and finally stops the movement of his fingers when he feels himself close to overstimulation. With trembling arms, he pulls out, his hole clenching at a phantom sensation.

For a long moment, both men just sit there, collecting themselves. Izaya’s heart thunders inside his ribcage, the rush of endorphins through his system making him feel pleasantly lightheaded. At the other end, Shizuo sits up gingerly. He leans forward, ignoring the mess he has made on his blanket. Tiredly, he cracks a smile, feeling his chest flutter when Izaya returns it.

“That was good,” the raven murmurs. “I really miss you, Shizu-chan.”

“I miss you, too,” Shizuo mutters in return. “But it’s only a few more months. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Izaya agrees, carefully readjusting his position, wincing as he takes down his legs and feels the ache in his bottom. He looks up and catches the warmth in those familiar brown eyes. A deep longing starts to gnaw at his heart, so Izaya quickly laughs it off. “And until then I’ll buy more lingerie!”

“Oh God, please do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to anyone in a long-distance relationship. you have all my respect for being able to do that.


End file.
